


Where the Sky Meets the Sea

by JadeFlicker



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aliens, Aliens that eat their own kind, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beaches, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Crack, Deep Sea, Desserted Island AU, Exploring quintessence, Gen, Horror, Hurt Lance (Voltron), If you're already scared of the ocean, MerMay 2018, Mermaids, OC is an Eldritch Horror, Ocean, Or angst, Post Season 5, Space mermaids, Stranded, Take it as you will, The ocean is beautiful and dangerous, Then this is not for you, Tried my best with the science, Wilderness Survival, Worldbuilding, late entry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeFlicker/pseuds/JadeFlicker
Summary: A mission gone wrong results in Lance being stranded. Alone. Well, not alone. There's a monster on the beach and he's pretty sure it already tried to eat him once.He's not panicking at all.(This entire fic started when I woke up one day and thought "I haven't written anything about people being eaten lately! For shame!". It took on a life of its own afterwards, but that should pretty much tell you how this story is going to go.)





	Where the Sky Meets the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Late MerMay entry and my first Voltron fic! Hope you guys enjoy me throwing deep sea, cannibalistic, space mermaids into the mix! >8D

 

After a little over a year of traversing through space, you’d think Lance would be a bit more used to being almost eaten.

 

Fact was, at this point, everyone on the team could account for at least one time of _actually_ getting eaten (and then subsequently having to escape one way or another). It’s just…

 

Their  _life_ , man.

 

And if being almost eaten again was enough, then there was the _voice_. The _voice_ and the _sounds_ and the not-quite- _words_ that were FLOODING the space Lance was hiding in. He knew something about it wasn’t quite right (no Keith-paranoia needed), but he wasn’t sure if it was the voice itself or the bump he was _pretty sure he felt_ on the side of his temple.

 

Not that reasoning made it any less frightening.

 

 _“Ccccoooome heeeeeere, little morseeeel~,”_ an echoing voice drifted into the crevice Lance had wedged himself into, words faintly melodic. “ _Ccccccoooome to meeee~!”_

 

( _Where was he…?_ _Where was everyone…? **Please** don’t let him die here, **hedidn’twanttodie!**_ )

 

His stomach couldn’t help but roll as some part of his brain gibbered _badbadbaddangerousbad_ , a strange quality in the voice making the words _ring_. Ring and flow and fill even as it echoed strangely, weirdly muffled and distorted. As if he were listening underwater or through a faulty phone where someone was speaking right next to Lance’s ear and into his brain; sending chills down his spine and causing him to hunch smaller in cold-sweat anxiety. His thought processes were already muddled and scattered, drifting in different and not entirely coherent directions. Whatever this was didn’t help. And he couldn’t seem to get away from it.

 

No matter how carefully he listened, he couldn’t pinpoint _where it was coming from_. Every surface, every atom, was suddenly a stereo in itself…and yet simultaneously like it was simply a song stuck ( _loudly_ ) in his head.

 

Voices didn’t _do_ that.

 

 _“Ccccoooome to meeee, soft oooone~,”_ it continued maddeningly. _“Let me ssssshooow yooou **eteeeeernity**_.”

 

Okay.

 

Okay, calm down. He could handle this, no problem!

 

( _He had no idea what was going on_. _He 100% could **not** handle this. But he really wasn’t panicking! Not him!_ )

 

 _“Wwwwhhheeeree have you gooonnee?”_ the voice lilted questioningly, dangerously playful. _“Whaaattt hidey hoooolllee have you tucked yoooourrseellff intoooo_?”

 

Here he was hiding in a tiny crevice that gave him an incredibly limited view and rocks pressing down on him.  And the voice was coming from outside, from inside with him, from the _very rocks themselves_! Eerily _reverberating_ through the very air he was desperately gasping and through him until it felt like a breath on his dry tongue.

 

 _“Cccccome out of your liiiittle hidey-hole, tasssssty thing~,”_ it sang with some level of familiarity, as if they knew each other. Not at all like something that had been about to chomp down on his unconscious, unsuspecting ass. Singing or speaking as if Lance hadn’t shot a high-powered energy blast down its throat after panickily jerking to full consciousness. “ _Cccccccome out of hiiiiiding and ccccccoooome to meeeee~! Feeeeel peaccccceful and relaxed at the sssoooouuund of my voice_ ~. _Relaaaax, llllliiittle one, ccccccoooome to meeee~!_ ”

 

The Paladin didn’t know whether to shit himself or note how thoroughly concussed he was. Just that when… _whatever_ spoke-sang-whispered-ordered, there was a part of his brain that felt like it had become a wiiiide, smooth ribbon. That if he just let himself be soothed, let the rest of his mind fall back against the soft ribbon, he would sink peacefully.

 

It made Lance _wanted_ to go.

 

He wanted to _crawl_ out from the fissure where he was packed into so tightly that he was practically stuck, the rock scraping against his helmet and armor every time he so much as twitched. He wanted to go _out there_ in his burnt and cracked armor. It promised that he would be fine. That the pains and panic and rapid confusion flickering and flaring in his brain would settle and grow distant, if he would just let himself be encompassed. Just stumble to whatever was singing to him in a way that promised less pain and less exhaustion, comfort and being held close and coming _home_.

 

( _And when was the last time he’d seen home?_ )

 

Only the feeling of how _not right_ it was kept him from doing just that. Instinct was just sharp enough to pierce through the combined fog in his mind and leave him disturbed enough that he was actively struggling to get his thoughts together, wrestling with himself to keep from being lulled. Because no matter how nice the voice, no matter how much it pressed him to do what it told him to…he couldn’t quite wipe out the vision of the giant night-black maw and gleaning, white teeth closing in around him.

 

Maybe how fuzzy everything felt was a good thing? When Lance moved… _anything_ , he was drowned in a new wave of lightheadedness that had his head lolling and pain skittering across his skin like so many stabbing insects. He couldn’t really bear thinking about what it would feel like if he _wasn’t_ feeling so groggy at the moment.

 

Quiznak, his head was so messed up right now. Suddenly, he was 11 again and had _really_ gotten into his cousin’s secret stash of tequila. It was an almost out of body, out of mind experience that afterwards left him unbalanced, shivery, and unable to connect two cohesive thoughts together if his life depended on it. And his life kinda _really depended on it right now_!

 

There was no way he could outrun anything if things came down to that. Even the thought of the resulting skittering wave of pain, like blood rushing back to his limbs but with _burning_ , made him want to hurl. This probably wasn’t going away anytime soon unless someone friendly found him. His lack of orientation and sense of balance ensured that he wouldn’t get too far on his own, even if he somehow managed to somehow stay on his feet. And even if he managed to get any distance, there was…whatever had tried to eat him. _That_ was definitely not friendly.

 

Distantly, he couldn’t help but think that somewhere ( _somehow_ ) the universe was paying him back for all those times he ( _accidentally_ ) made a still-prone-to-motion-sickness Hunk spew chunks.

 

Lance screwed his eyes shut and tried to focus past the faint ringing in his ears, concentrating on keeping track of his own shaky, too-loud breathing.

 

His own hammering heartbeat that was more a rhythmic, thudding pressure than a sound.

 

Of the high, uneven whistling of the wind blowing past the edges of the crevice’s entrance.

 

On the rushing pound of waves hissing against a shore.

 

Oh.

 

He was near a beach.

 

Lance couldn’t tell you when exactly he slipped back into unconsciousness, even if he tried.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Despite the fact that they were on yet another dangerous mission of upmost importance, in yet ANOTHER Galra-swarmed system (where Lance was carefully not thinking about the very real possibility of someone, possibly himself, getting hurt or_ dying _), Lance was actually kind of happy. There was a certain exhilaration that came from having the team altogether again for once, even if his white armor now had a few singe marks from some too-close calls. He would have to remember to buff those out when they got back to the Castle._

_“On your right!” someone barked, quickly followed by another flurry of exchanged blast shots._

_Reflexively, Lance moved forward to engage, but was stopped as one of the Resistance faction leaders swung around the corner from where the chaos was. He immediately recognized them as the bipedal dog alien that was usually with Matt. Reaching back around the corner and firing off a couple of blasts, the dog-like rebel quickly turned to their little group with their brow pinched in a decidedly grim look for a canine’s face._

_“The Witch is already here,” they reported tersely, and Lance was never going to get over how they sounded like a little kid. “We’re running out of time! The distraction team was forced to retreat and we’re on our own until extraction can break past the barricade! We’ll hold this hallway, just get to the experimental chamber!”_

_Lance turned towards Shiro to see what their leader would decide. The black paladin’s head was slightly bowed, his fists clenched. Even in this dim lighting, Lance could see how his eyes were furrowed shut. Every line in his body spoke of conflict, of bracing himself for yet another tough decision._

_That kind of weight and pressure? Having to face making tough decisions like leaving their allies behind? Lance had never had to deal with it before, and he wasn’t actually sure how he’d fare either. He had only ever been Voltron’s sharpshooter, the right leg or the right hand and the dashing lady’s man. Sometimes, he wondered if that was why the Black Lion didn’t choose him._

_Well, Lance could still help! He could do **plenty** (no matter what certain mullet-heads say). Because let’s face it, he _waaaas _pretty awesome. And as long as they all stuck together, Team Voltron could face down anything!_

_Finally, with a determined, acknowledging nod, Shiro briefly locked wrists with the dog-man alien before turning and heading further into the base. With a casual, jaunty salute, Lance quickly followed along with their designated team._

_Alarms blared after them like so many accusations no matter where they ran. Even_ with _the alarms’ flashing red lights and the weapon blasts, every hallway and room was dark, shadowy, and tinged purple from the violet lights that seemed to be the MO for all Galra bases. And while Lance couldn’t give anyone stats or an analysis like Pidge could, he was PRETTY SURE Haggar just **being there** made that location darker and spookier. This being one of the Witch’s _ secret labs _was also helping exactly NO ONE’S peace of mind. Least of all, their leader’s._

_There had been a visible whipcord tension running through Shiro’s body language since the parameters of the mission had been set. Once or twice, Lance had caught the slight trembling in the Black Paladin’s human hand that everyone seemed to make a point of not mentioning. No one knew how._

_“Pidge! Hunk! Have you two gotten into the security systems yet?!” Shiro snapped through their coms._

_“Yeah! And we scrambled the communications to the main fleet, thanks to the codes Lotor gave us. Bad news though? The main lab runs on a separate security system,” Hunk responded, his voice unusually static-y. Part of why this lab was out on the far edges of the known universe was so Haggar could throw around as much quintessence as she wanted. Thanks to that, Allura was able to track down the hidden base with her mystical Altean know-how, but past experience had taught them to be wary of the reliability of their equipment in such locations. And as the engineers predicted, the further they were from each other, the more static they got. But interference didn’t manage to cover_ _the sound of a sudden crash and a distinctively metallic crunch before Hunk huffed, “Yeeeaaahhh…definitely can’t unlock it from here.”_

_“We’ll have to override it manually!” was Pidge’s no-nonsense conclusion/order. “ETA to Haggar’s evil lair in 10 dobashes!”_

_“Got it!” Shiro confirmed. “Keith! Allura! What are your guys’ status?!”_

_“Blades have disabled canons and perimeter weapons system,” Keith immediately replied. He sounded a bit less static-y than Pidge and Hunk, so he was probably a bit closer. “We’ll rendezvous with you on the way!”_

_Allura snapped after him, “The Coalition is in position! As soon as you’ve destroyed Haggar’s experimental Translocator, we’ll break through the last of the barricade and extract you from Terminal 21-A! Voltron Coalition! **You must destroy that machine and any record of it at all costs!** ”_

_No kidding._

_The Blade of Mamora had been the ones to discover this particular near-completed project of Haggar’s, one that had been **specially** commissioned by Zarkon himself when he was still alive. They had taken one look at what little they had and (for lack of better terms) completely lost their collective, stoic shit. _

_They had immediately contacted Allura, the Coalition, and even third parties they weren’t allied with, but who had reasons to be equally alarmed. More shockingly, they had even contacted Lotor and established a temporary truce. It was an unusual and alarming move for an organization that valued secrecy and discretion among all else, but this had been just too big not to. Absolutely **anybody** who would be interested and/or affected by the consequences of Haggar’s newest venture were contacted. And there were _ many _._

_Project Oracle was a machine; one of Haggar’s signature monstrosities of technology, magic, and quintessence. And its near completion could very well spell the death of all resistance to the Empire, crush all underground dealings, and kick-start a new wave of Galra conquest. Once online, reports said that—given a sample of quintessence—Haggar and her Druids could track down any individual or species. Not only would Oracle be able to pinpoint and locate an individual or an entire rebelling species anywhere in the known universe, but it would supposedly also be able to **show**_ _what certain individuals were doing at that very moment. With it, the Empire Galra still resisting Lotor’s rule could track down Lotor’s forces and every Resistance member, as well as peek into hidden meetings just by tracking certain leaders._

_Lance had taken to calling it Haggar’s evil crystal ball, but sadly no one else besides Hunk seemed to appreciate his clever wit._

_As a new wave of droids and Galra hostiles appeared in the hallway, the Blue Paladin fell back and raised his assault rifle. Prepared for the brief burst of light and the sudden weight change in his hands, he lined up his shots through the sniper rifle’s scope as Shiro and the others charged forward. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger in rapid succession, firing precision shots that just barely skimmed past an allied shoulder, thigh, or swinging arm to blast an attacker._

_Lance thought this was probably what Coran was talking about when he spouted off about synchronization and paladins being people who’d fought by each other for years. There was fulfillment in hearing Hunk’s relieved thanks when he covered for the guy from a perch. He felt giddy when he could watch his team or allies’ back and predict their next move as they charged forward. Anytime they missed a swing, stumbled, or had to fall back, he was there to shoot._

_As Shiro’s artificial hand cut through a droid in its usual screaming-crunch of metal and humming of his activated Galra arm, another droid behind it aimed at the Black Paladin’s open side._

_Lance blasted off its head with a shot that missing Shiro’s shoulder by inches._

_This synergy Voltron had going? All kinds of exhilarating and badass._

_Once they broke through this group, Lance hustled back up past the rest of the group and to Shiro’s side. Their esteemed leader may be their best frontline fighter, but whooo did he trust to watch his back! **Him** , the Voltron sharpshooter, of course! _

_At an intersection, familiar, dark, hooded figures joined their group. The smallest new arrival almost immediately fell in step with Lance to flank Shiro. Despite the full-face mask and hood, nobody had to ask who the small figure was, considering how distinctive he was with the red bayard looped into his belt._

_If anyone had told Lance back at the Garrison that he would one day miss Keith, Lance would have busted a gut laughing or called them out on trying prank him. Probably both. But that was before giant robot lions, battles against overwhelming odds, learning to fight together, saving the universe…all that jazz. Keith and him didn’t always get along (and that was most definitely because **Mullet-head** was a jackass), but they were a team. Before the Coalition or the Resistance or the Blades of Mamora, the seven of them only had each other to hold onto after losing their entire world (some figuratively, some literally). Each of them simply didn’t **have** anyone when they got _ flown into space, _and they…_

_They were the family they made._

_So it was cool to have the whole team back together again for once, fighting side by side like old times. It would have been even more awesome if Allura had come as well, but it was vital to their plans that she stay in the Castle to teleduv everyone out. When this was confirmed, the princess insisted that they put the blue bayard to use if she couldn’t. This mission was too important for them to_ not _utilize every available resource and weapon they had, after all. Lance had promptly taken the blue one from her and handed Keith the red bayard. They’d both flown the Red Lion, but Mullet-head had never been Blue’s._

_Having to bulldoze through a couple more intercepting enemy forces, their group was eventually able to reach the designated spot and central lab where they determined the Quintessence Translocator was located. By then, Hunk, Pidge, and their minions were already there and agitating over the disassembled panel next to the door._

_“The door’s unlocked!” Pidge reported urgently as soon as she noticed their arrival. “But they’re doing **something** on the other side to keep the door from opening!”_

_Shiro came to a stop in front of the heavy, mechanical doors that looked more suited for a cargo hanger. Even from here, Lance could see that their esteemed leader had that “come hell or high water, I’m doing this” look in his eye._

_Quiznak. Space Jesus help them all._

_“Then we’ll just have to force it open from this side,” Shiro concluded as if it was that obvious. Or **easy**._

_Apparently, it WAS. Because right after saying as much, Shiro promptly started sawing through the thick metal of the door using his purple, glowing lightsaber of a hand. As usual, so frickin’ handy. It would be the absolute coolest if Shiro hadn’t gotten via Haggar getting her hands on_ him _._

_Lance was the first to notice a shift in the color around the edges of Shiro’s person-sized triangle. The melted metal edges were already glowing purple (thank you, lightsaber hand), but it was a hot white edged with purple. The dark purple that started shimmering through was something else entirely. It clicked half a tick after he noticed and his eyes widened in alarm._

_“EVERYBODY DUCK!” Lance hollered urgently._

_Keith immediately tackled Shiro around the middle and out of the way as black-purple lightning blasted through the shape Shiro was cutting, ripping through the metal within the cutout like so much paper. Immediately after the initial bout of lightning subsided, Lance moved to the opening in tandem with Pidge. Hugging close to the smaller paladin’s back, he braced his rifle on top of the edge of her summoned shield and fired back full tilt as they maneuvered through the hole and into the room. From the corner of his eye, he saw some Blades roll through the hole behind them before springing up like some demented, pop-up toys and engaging with the surrounding enemies. Just before the Druids could finish summoning another bout of dark lightning, Hunk squeezed himself through and laid some heavy cover fire like the true lifesaver he was._

_The rest was chaos._

_For a while, Lance was back to back with Hunk and Pidge as they frantically worked to hack the computers along the walls for records of the machine in the middle of the room. One that he was carefully not looking at, **thank you very much**. Because quiznack, did that thing look like something straight out of an old, sci-fi, horror movie. Unfortunately, he got the full breadth of it when he jetpacked himself up onto a perch and started truly sniping hostiles._

_The large, circular chamber was red. Not_ red- _red, but it was disconcerting how everything went from being tinged purple to a room where every metal surface seemed to have a sinister red glow. And the machine they were looking for?_

_Well…it looked like Mullet-head’s go-to solution of “blow everything to hell” (sometimes with them still in the vicinity **,**_ **KEITH _!)_** _might…actually be the best option for this. The Quintessence Translocator was a bulging, pulsing thing that took over most of the ceiling with lots of bits and pieces that would probably explode if Lance tried to fiddle with them. It all seem to condense, surround, and drip down into a single, long, pointed bit that stabbed down towards the center of room over a large, glowing dais. Protruding, pillar-like support beams curved inwards over the platform and kept it a good few feet above the floor. From this angle, he thought it looked like a glowing disk sitting in the palm of some four fingered, clawed beast._

_If they wheeled in an examination table or chair, Lance was booking it out of this horror show. With the whole room and the machine and the atmosphere, they were a few elements short of a truly nightmarish torture or dissection scene. And considering what Shiro went through…_

_Just…_ not okay _._

_Actually, speaking of_ not okay _…_

_Shiro was facing off with Haggar._

_Lance cursed as he frantically leapt down from his perch and ran towards where Haggar had somehow managed to isolate Shiro from the others. Not that they didn’t trust in their leader and all, but the Witch had been the man’s tormentor. And from talking with Coran, Lance was pretty sure she was a major source of the former gladiator’s many nightmares and PTSD. Everyone knew not to let Shiro face Haggar if possible, but the things had clearly become too chaotic._

_Rushing closer, Lance could see that the Witch had done_ something _that caused a black band of shadows to wrap over Shiro’s eyes and around his head. Whatever it was doing, it had Shiro grunting and panting in panic as he flailed and swung at thin air. Sliding in between the legs of one intercepting droid, Lance used his momentum to twist around as he slid back onto his feet and shot it in the back. Finishing the full spin with a short burst from his jetpack, he dodged two more droids when he saw Haggar forming a rather ominous looking black ball in her hands. The Blue Paladin had his rifle braced against his shoulder and his eye on the scope before he even fully skidded to a stop. Shutting most of the turmoil out of his mind, he was just aware enough to sense one of the Galra charging at him. Just enough to know Pidge was taking aim and about to knock them out before they even reached him. Lance inhaled._

_Never trust just your eyes. Trust that you know where they’ll be._

_Exhale._

_Ticks. Half a tick._

_Just enough._

Hold _—_

_The shot shattered in a small firework explosion of blue sparks against Haggar’s shoulder. She gave short, cut-off scream and stumbled back as she was knocked off-course from her charge at an incapacitated Black Paladin. Immediately taking advantage of her stumble, a pissed off Keith swept in and took a hard swing at the hooded alien. From there, it was a fast-paced back and forth. Haggar was able to repeatedly teleport short distances to keep her distance and take surprise shots at her opponents. But Keith had always been doggedly stubborn and an almost frighteningly agile, close-combat fighter used to getting close and under people’s guards. In one instant that he managed to get close, Keith dropped and twisted away from one her swipes, grabbing her outstretched hand, and flipped her. Her surprised grasp turned into another harsh cry as Lance’s oncoming blast hit her in the back as she went down._

_“Watch it, Lance!” Keith barked angrily._

_“Hey, I hit her, didn’t I?!” Lance retorted. Even as they argued, both moved forward without a hiccup or hesitation in their movement. They couldn’t afford any. The_ tick _Haggar was able to focus or balance herself they would lose their advantage._

_So they didn’t give her the chance. Together, they harried Haggar with Keith hitting in close and Lance covering him. Even her little magician’s trick of seemingly making herself multiply didn’t work quite as well when there was two of them watching for the real one to move. The last particularly explosive combo attack threw the witch onto the platform._

_Without hesitation, Keith quickly leapt up after her. A split tick after the former Paladin’s feet crossed the border of the dias and hit the glowing designs, Lance realized they shouldn’t have herded her there of all places. And from the panicked, angry look on his face as he suddenly froze and wobbled, Keith realized the same as he couldn’t seem to lift his feet from the platform’s center. With his feet stuck, he wasn’t able to dodge Haggar’s lightning-like energy attack this time._

_“Keith!” Lance yelped as his teammate flew across the room and crashed_ hard _into one of the wall consoles. It was bad hit, and the Paladin immediately knew that Keith wasn’t going to be able to immediately bounce back from this one. (_ He wasn’t thinking about if Keith didn’t get up at all.)

_Well…quiznack. That left him to distract the power-hungry, magical, dark elf of mortal nightmares, didn’t it?_

_Growling, he sprinted to the edge of the platform, reforming his bayard from the sniper rifle to his classic assault rifle. In such close quarters, Lance would be needing stronger and rapid firepower more than precision. He just had to hold out and distract Haggar long enough for someone to assist. Dialing the blasts up to the strongest it could go, he started firing on the other. Having been warily watching the glowing parts of the platform, he just barely managed to spot and tumble heads over heels to avoid a twist of grasping, purple lightning camouflaged by the glowing designs._

_Not the most graceful move, but he was pretty sure that the magical trap that had caught Keith off guard. Keith, and not him so_ HA _!_

_It ended up setting the precedence for their one-on-one “battle”. Haggar throwing spell after vicious hit, and Lance shooting multiple blasts and determinedly dodging and avoiding letting her get completely behind him. He definitely didn’t have Shiro’s or Keith’s finesse or economy of movement, but it was working. Or rather, it namely became the universe’s most demented game of Whack-a-Mole._

_Shoot-a-Witch versus Fry-a-Paladin._

_At some point though, she clearly had enough. With a wild, frustrated snarl, Haggar slammed a clawed hand down onto the center of the platform. A lightning- and wind-clad shockwave shot out with herself in the epicenter, throwing about everybody in the lab. Lance just barely managed to summon his shield before he was thrown back. He promptly lost his breath as he slammed into one of the arching pillars, and he was pretty sure his back was going to be one large bruise in the morning._

_Stunned by the hit and twitching from the lighting, Lance felt himself slide down against the column and land in a heap with a too-loud_ THUD! _Trying to get his limbs under control as his shield disappeared, he grasped weakly at his bayard and struggled to get up. To keep fighting._

_But it took him too long._

_By the time he was on his knees, Haggar had activated the machine._

_Her head suddenly pitching back as if drunk, the Witch_ screamed. _Dark hisses and vicious, malevolent spitting, it was some garbled language that edged on incomprehensiveness and words with a sinister yet purposeful curl. Every sound that came out of her mouth raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Then, with further ado and without pausing in her screaming, she threw her arms up and the cackling lighting shot from her hands and into the two large, bulbous orbs set into the sides of the machine above._

_At first, it seemed like nothing would happen, then the Translocator failed to work._

_Suddenly the center of the orbs started to glow a sinister red, and Lance’s stomach sank, leaving a nauseous hole in its place. The more energy Haggar fed it, the more it lit up. In the few moments he watched, trying to get his body to_ work, _the cloudy bulbs seemed to gain light and heat until both wholly glowed a sickly white, tinged and edged with red. That white-red then seemed to seep through the machine, lighting it up and activating different parts. Glowing lines converged onto the large, metal spindle-thing above the platform, warming it to glow with the same sickening light. A little more energy caused black-purple and red-black electricity to start crawling and cackling along the length of it._

_Finally. A purple-black-red ball of energy formed at the point. Sick and pulsing and fuzzy around the edges, it was just a little thing at first, the size of a marble. Then it_ grew _._

_It grew into the size of grape._

_Then a softball._

_A grapefruit._

_A watermelon._

_And the more it grew, the more the lightning-like energy seem to spread across the room. Back on his feet, Lance’s once over of the room showed that dark static electricity crackled and climbed and clung and ran along every wall, floor, ceiling, and open surface with most of it was focused on the platform. And when the Paladin tried stumbling across it, he was forced to retreat when residual lightning cracked down at where he had stepped on the glowing symbols. Stopping himself, the boy made himself pause. Made himself pause, and focus. To be patient. He took a moment to study the paths the electricity seemed to writhe, his eyes tracing and tracking the paths of energy that existed in a_ machine _. Bits of energy dividing and converging and jumping and leaping._

_No use thinking about this. He just had to_ do it _before Haggar finished._

_Resummoning his shield, the Blue Paladin booked it around the circumference of the platform to where he spotted the lighting starting to slightly converge away from each other. He forcefully pushed himself from the second column he had stumbled into, took a half-sprinting, half-stumbling start, and projected his summoned shield down under his feet as he landed in a crouch. Surfing forward even as he just missed being struck again, he braced the butt of his rifle against the hip facing away from the Witch and fired in rapid succession._

_The quick-fire spray pressed_ hard _against his hipbone. But it added just enough momentum to have him slide across quickly, already gone by the time the platform seemed to fully register his location and_ attack _. Just as he reached his target, he let his wrist bend—just the slightest—as he took one last shot, the force sending his arm swinging around. As it did, his grip adjusted and he swung the Altean longsword at Haggar’s open midriff._

_It was clumsy and wide. More momentum-driven force than precision and lacking any real swordsmanship or signs of his recent training._

_But it did hit._

_Haggar’s scream this time as an arc of dark blood splattered across the platform was purely just that. A scream. A scream full of pain, but not any less rage._

_The fact he got in a really good hit was cool (_ not thinking about the slicing, not thinking about the cutting) _, but he didn’t actually have a way to_ stop _his momentum at the moment. So while he was happy he had succeeded, he could have done without bodily crash landing into the Doom Elf From Hell and landing in a heap._

_Almost immediately, Lance was thrown back by a hard hit to the chest that left him gasping for air. He went with the movement of the blow and rolled back onto his feet, lunging back on top of her and—THUD! THUD!—struck two heavy,_ fleshy _blows (_ also not thinking about that) _to her head with the sword butt._

_It didn’t knock her out. But from her dazed look as she struggled to strangle him, she didn’t seem to be able to immediately teleport as she’d been doing the past few dobashes. If nothing else, he was now able to grapple with her. As she was proving when she almost pinned him, clawing at his armor and face, Haggar was physically stronger and taller than the he was. But she was stunned, concussed, and Lance was use to grappling and training with people taller and/or physically stronger than he was._

_Admittedly, he hadn’t really thought his plan through. He was still waiting on support, though something seemed to be keeping the frenzied rebels from approaching easily. In the midst of wrestling with Haggar, it wasn’t until he heard a high-pitched, mechanical whine from above him that he realized something had gone wrong._

_In the moment he had tackled Haggar, she had been shooting lightning-like energy. She had_ still _been shooting lighting when she’d gone down, and the glowing furrows of molten metal showed where the Witch had accidentally cut through and damage the Oracle. The Quintessence Translocator machinery was now glowing purple and red and clearly overheating. From the pointed rod, the energy ball was now a fluctuating orb of shining, cold white. Vaguely, Lance thought it looked like a star._

_He heard someone scream his name,_

_Pushing off of Haggar, yet unable to look away from the increasingly agitated light and the machine whining louder and louder and louder, he practically fell over himself getting up._

_Lance only managed to get into a crouch before white enveloped everything._

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up a little more clear-headed. Or at least, clear headed enough that he wasn’t convinced that the dark, speckled rock inches from his face had _voices_. It still took him a while to reorient himself. A lot of staring dazedly into some middling distance.

 

Where was he? Where was everyone?

 

How did he get here?

 

He couldn’t remember. But the more he thought about it, the more it dawned on him—

 

Okay, okay, _breathe_.

 

Calm down, calm…What _did_ he remember?

 

They were fighting ( _they were always fighting_ ). What was their mission this time?

 

Haggar’s evil crystal ball.

 

Okay, that’s good. Lance was _pretty sure_ that was their last mission.

 

He was fighting…

 

He was fighting Haggar. Keith had gone down and he’d needed to keep her busy. Keep her from activating the machine or going after an unconscious Keith, a triggered Shiro, or a busy Hunk and Pidge.

 

Then…

 

He couldn’t remember what happened after that.

 

There was just…

 

Nothing.

 

And then…what happened after that?

 

In a rush and accompanied by a whine of pain, he remembered waking up to a gaping, black maw filled with rows of teeth and the accompanying, blinding panic. Reflex, ingrained to the point it was automatic, had him calling out his bayard and shooting.

 

It had screamed. An enraged sound of brittle rock and a dinosaur sound effect as he was dropped him on his head. And as he had scrambled away, the Paladin had left something huge and angry writhing behind him. But seeing as he hadn’t been eaten yet, and the blue texts and number streaming across his vision (namely, the targeting system in his helmet) weren’t notifying him of any life forms in his immediate vicinity, he had escaped.

 

Then there was the voice.

 

Did he imagine that?

 

He could distantly remember at least the impression and intent of it and its distorted sounding words…

 

Okay, okay. He was fine. First thing’s first…

 

Let’s see what’s outside the crevice.

 

…Nothing? Nothing. That’s good. Nothing resting just outside the crevice, watching him bleed out and waiting to kill him. Great.

 

 _Deep breath._ He’s got this. Absolutely. Can’t keep a badass like him down, nope!

 

…He would feel more confident if he had said it to someone besides himself. Maybe it was the concussion making his limbs feel like noodles or that he couldn’t immediately find anyone, only static ringing in his coms. But right now? He was feeling pretty…small. Small, and suddenly a lot more alone.

Eventually, Lance started shuffling out of the crevice, the armor on his chest and back scrapped loudly against rock until he popped out. He immediately regretted it. The sudden increase of light and space (as well as the lack of support) brought on a fresh wave of nausea that drove him to his knees and had him heaving weakly. And if that wasn’t enough, he hadn’t noticed that there was apparently a sudden dip in the landscape almost just outside. Deep and wide with gradual, steep slopes, he subconsciously noted that it would make a good size competitive pool as he stumbled and rolled down to the bottom.

 

It was very disconcerting (but not unfamiliar) feeling so light and disconnected from his own body, but he did just barely manage to _not_ collapse into the puddle (trail) of puke. Definitely had a concussion. And green goo actually looks pretty similar coming back up as it did going down.

 

…So.

 

He most definitely wasn’t in the best shape. Good to know, good to know… breathe… _no panicking_. He’s got this. Dizzily, he slowly shifted onto his back and allowed himself rest for a bit.

 

Even like this, completely still, it still felt like everything (sounds, sights, his _equilibrium_ ) was _swimming._ Even the banks of clouds and the swirling colors of the sky seemed to shift the longer he looked at it.

 

A soft breeze blew across his face, cooling his sweating forehead.

 

Different shades of deep, dark blue blended into variety of dark purples and light pinks towards one side of his vision. Swathes of clouds that looked to be further from the horizon glowed a warm red-orange, and the banks where the sky warmed to a pink gleaned a shining gold. It was beautiful; though he was sure he’d be able to actually appreciate it more much later.

 

Slowly, Lance tried for a slow, deep breath to calm his pounding… everything. His trembling fingers clawed at the dry, crumbling dirt-sand and bits of sharp shale, gloves digging furrows into the cracked, black-grey dust. Deep breath. Exhale. Deep breath. Exhale. Deep brea—

 

Salt…water? Brine?

 

The achingly familiar scent was overwhelming. And in that moment, everything else—pain, dizziness, confusion, panic—was overwhelmed by a _need._ Lance pushed himself up carefully and took in his surroundings. Excited, but very conscious of his vertigo, his gaze was briefly drawn back to the sheer, practically vertical, gray-black _mountain_ the crevice was set in. Looming upwards into the sky, he could _maybe_ see the edges if he craned his head a certain way. But when he attempted it, he immediately had to stop because _nope_. Nopenopenopenope. Head and body were not taking that well. Experience said that, since there was no immediate danger to be seen nor was anything detected by his systems, he should take it slow. Let his head settle and take things easy while he could. Cycling through bracing and resting as if he were scaling a mountain rather than just climbing to his feet, Lance took in his surroundings whenever he paused in his attempts to stand.

 

Almost immediately, he noticed how… _gray_ everything was. The sand, the mountain, the rocks, the tops of shriveled and dead-looking vegetation peeking out from the opposite edge of the depression he was in. The vivid, swirling sky was a jarring backdrop to a gray land, and the sinking suns casted even darker shadows. It seemed gloomy, even ominous, like something bleak and dying and breathing its last breath.

 

Dragging his thoughts from that direction, the Paladin started stumbling towards the direction where the sound of the ocean was coming from. He scrambled up the other side of the dip and away from the mountain and his hiding space. When he hit the crest of the incline, he…stopped. It may be cliché how it took his breath away, but…

 

It was the _sea_. From one side to another, he had a 180-degree view of an _ocean_. Just a fucking panorama of rippling, green sea highlighted in purple and gold by the two setting suns, one yellow and other a bit more orange. Lance hated to think what the light what have done to his pounding head if they he had come out while they were both in full blaze. Without the shelter of the dip, the wind blew harder in his face and he could practically _taste_ the ocean. If he really thought about it, it wasn’t quite the same as Varadero beach, but the smell was still similar enough to be shockingly nostalgic.

 

The pound and receding hiss of waves meeting the shore.

 

The way the sky met the sea and the world stretched on like forever.

 

He was a million miles away from home, but in that one moment, there was a pressing heat in the back of his eyes and a blurriness in his vision. He had never felt such an acute sense of homesickness and relief simultaneously.

 

Without really thinking about it, Lance started stumbling down the overlooking hill. Reaching the bottom, he started pushing through the scraggly, grey tangle of a dead looking tree line. Forced to stop a few times to rest, but otherwise he made progress by pushing through the weedy bursts of grass and close clusters of something that looked similar to wrinkled, gray bamboo with less leaves. When the Paladin laid eyes upon waves rushed up onto the sand between the gaps of two clusters, the Cuban boy felt a slightly hysterical, choked laugh of amazement escape him. But…just as he ducked out from the tree line and stepped onto the odd, grey sand, the boy caught something strange out of the corner of his eye.

 

Immediately, he ducked back and summoned his bayard into his hand. Swinging it up against his chest and checking it over, he then slowly inched out, trying to get a look at the thing down the beach.

 

On top of a tilted rock formation out of the reach of the water, there was a curling mass of something dark blue with flecking splatters of white that stood out from the gray landscape and jagged, black rock. So far, it was the only non-gray thing he’d seen on the island. Any attempts to estimate its size from where he was caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end, it was so big. Something else about it had him hesitating to approach…

 

Lost in thought as he tried to decipher his muddled thoughts, he almost missed the first subtle _shift_. And Lance had the sudden and inevitable epiphany that what he was looking at was _coils_.

 

“Hhhhhmmmmm…”

 

He practically leapt out of his _skin_ as a singing, contemplative note suddenly hiss-murmured right into his ear. Spinning around, there was nothing and nobody around him. His gaze swinging back to the other thing, he could feel the blood leave his face as the gigantic, fuck-off snake raised itself up.

 

“ _Fins_ ,” he squeaked disbelievingly, though that was the very least of it.

 

He couldn’t really say what the bottom half looked like (except that it involved huge, thick coils), but the top half actually looked vaguely human. A distinguishable head with streams of thick, dreadlock hair was supported by a neck, and two arms attached to a torso that had seemed molded just slightly enough to differentiate it from the rest of a snake-like body. But that was where the similarities ended.

 

The actual proportions were absolutely alien. Shoulders sloped too steeply into ghoulishly long arms with fans of spiny fins running from elbow to the wrist. Disproportionately large, webbed hands with claw-like fingers came down to rest on rock and lower coils to push itself up. Mainly covered in dark blue-gray-pink scales, it had an area that ran from the underside of its chin down its weirdly long neck and vaguely human-ish torso where its skin faded into a pale, almost white, shade (like _the underside of a fish_ , some part his mind gibbered). Its eyes reminded Lance of the Plaxum’s, but larger, bulbous, darker, and more…hungry. Most of the skull seemed to have been pulled forward and elongated, the entirety of the bottom half of its head and jaw protruded out in something that might be the beginnings of a snout. A small mouth rested under slit nostrils, with two lines from each corner stretching across each cheek and up to where the ears would be.

 

Wait…

 

A shiver went down Lance’s spine. Was it…was it the voi—?!

 

“Yoooouuu resiiissssted comiiiing to meeee when I caaaallleedd,” the weirdly distorted voice came again. It took a few moments for Lance to decipher and understand what it said, but he could see from the small mouth opening before hearing the words that it was the one speaking. “But then, you coooome to me all on your ooooown. What a straaaaaannnnggee morsel…”

 

He didn’t answer, but a scared, little noise accidently escaped as he felt the voice curl in his brain. Apparently, either he hadn’t been imagining it before, or he was still much more concussed than he thought.

 

It didn’t laugh, per say. But he got the distinct impression of it being sadistically amused. Almost casually so. It tilted its head, swaying slightly to try to catch an examining glimpse of him. As it did so, its long hair shifted and flared strangely.

 

With another shaky gasp, he realized what he had foolishly thought as hair tied into dreadlocks were actually long, _long_ tentacles.

 

He’d step from a sci-fi, action cartoon into a horror show.

 

Lance saw how the examining air it had became _consideration_. In horror, he couldn’t look away as—with a _crack!_ —the lines stretching out from the mouth twitched before slowly falling open. And even from this distance, he could see that the inside of it’s mouth was a pitch black darker than any shadows in the landscape. Even from here, he could see the glean of too-large teeth.

 

He almost missed what happened next. Some part of him expecting it to talk some more. Another part just not expecting something that big to be so fast.

 

A lot of it was probably just him freezing in fear of a large predator bearing down on him.

 

But fast it was. Lunging forward like a snake, it was frighteningly fast and strangely graceful as it clawed across the sand and thrashed its lower body to propel itself forward. Getting closer and closer and closer, black maw gaping open and suddenly just _so close_.

 

It was something out of a _nightmare_.

 

Training and battle experience had him moving before he even consciously registered that he was being attacked. Bolting and falling and quickly rolling back to his feet without a pause before scrambling back the way he came in his blind panic. There was no way he’d be able to outmaneuver something that big, so it was just straight booking it and hoping it had too much trouble dragging itself through the scraggy, dead grass and tight clustered vegetation.

 

Most importantly, from the way it was moving, he didn’t think it actually had legs. So, he headed the way he came and scrambled back up and over the tall hill that he’d first stood on to see the ocean. Practically leaping over the incline, he bodily slid down a little on his back, readjusted his grip on his rifle, and paused.

 

Lance listened. Nothing. Nothing but the swish and crash of the sea, the whistling wind, and the rustling of windblown plants. No heavy crashing or shifts of anything large moving over sand.

 

Okay.

 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he rolled over sharply and army crawled back up to the crest of the hill. Swinging his gun up, he steadily lined it up as he scanned the tree line.

 

He could do this. Yeah…totally. Experience. He had plenty of it. Noooo problem! He totally knew how to handle this! Absolutely!

 

( _He had no idea how to handle this. None at all._ )

 

( _Oh God, what was he going to **do**?!_ )

 

( _Quiznak, he was so scared._ )

 

Okay, he knew he had _think_. Assess. Yeah, that was what Shiro, Allura, and Coran were always going on about right?

 

Right.

 

So, what did he know?

 

He was on an unknown island. An unknown island in an unknown sea located on an unknown planet, with skies starting to fill with constellations Lance couldn’t even _begin_ to recognize. Alone. By himself. No team, no Coalition, no Blades, not even Red or Blue.

 

His suit’s computer system wasn’t connecting to…well, _anything_. Coms weren’t picking up anything but static, and his suit couldn’t even show him his location in the known systems even WITH Pidge, Hunk, Coran, and Matt’s updates. And his suit _WAS transmitting_. But if wasn’t picking up anything, that meant there was a good chance that the rest of the team probably also didn’t know where he was. And as long as he was AWOL, he couldn’t fly Red and they couldn’t form Voltron and—

 

Breathe. Breathe. _Breathe, goddamit!_

 

Okay, first things first. Priorities.

 

Voltron.

 

Actually…thinking about it, the Voltron situation was the easiest situation to rectify. After all, Keith was still with the others, and that guy could come out of anything. He wouldn’t be happy to be pulled out of Blade business, but Mullet-head was nothing if not dedicated. He’d do what needed to be done. So Red would have her old pilot back, Allura could continue flying Blue, and Voltron could still be formed. Their handsome resident sharpshooter going missing wouldn’t be detrimental.

 

A mixture of relief and a kind of crushing loneliness accompanied the thought. Lance staunchly pushed down the depressing part and similar flavors of dark thoughts gnawing at his mind. Forcefully throwing that train of thought, he reminded himself that this wasn’t about him. They were in a _war_ , and as long as the others had all the pieces—

 

Quiznack.

 

With something akin to horror, Lance’s eyes were drawn down to the rifle in his hands.

 

He’d smack himself in the head if he wasn’t busy making sure the monster wasn’t going to burst out of the vegetation. Speaking of which…Lance quickly refocused on the tree line. Nothing he could do about getting the bayard back now. The others would simply have to come get him.

 

Okay. Okay, moving on. His armor was…cracked, blackened, and burnt. It wouldn’t be able to hold out in another firefight. However, the systems were still working haltingly but steadily, and Matt’s addition of adding an environment analysis feature to the suit was proving to be VERY USEFUL right now. The suit’s collar itself had a function of keeping a bubble of oxygen around their heads, and the full mask of the helmet he was using now was usually for when they were in surroundings without the elements for the suit to convert into the right mix of breathable air. So far, the suit didn’t seem to have any problems and the bits of feedback he was getting implied that this planet’s atmosphere might actually be okay to breathe on its own. At least, he wasn’t going to die from the cracks along his helmet’s clear visor. Still, wouldn’t hurt to wait until the full results came back. Other feedback seemed to conclude that the sea was saltwater not dissimilar to Earth’s oceans and _not_ some kind of weird acid. And that alone caused a nostalgic happiness to curl in his gut. Even though he was currently stranded on an alien planet, on some bleak little island, alone, he was finally seeing an ocean and a _beach_.

 

Well…actually…he wasn’t alone, was he? That was kind of the problem.

 

Because there was a giant monster that looked vaguely like what you’d get if you crossed a mermaid with a deep-sea monster from the depths of your worst nightmares. And it very clearly wanted to eat him.

 

So, _wonderful._

 

He was on a desolate island surrounded by water as far as he could see and the only other intelligent life form he’d met so far wanted chomp on his ass in the not fun way. With his luck, the ocean was probably just _filled_ with things that would find a Lance-shaped and -sized snack to be just perfect.

 

Only when the suns fully set and night fell did Lance let his rifle cool down. It didn’t seem to be after him? But just in case, he was quiet about sliding all the way down to the bottom of the dip and trudging back across then up to his crevice. It wasn’t a great time, but the dizziness was getting to the point where he wasn’t going to be standing much longer. There really weren’t that many courses of action beside sitting down, applying first aid where he could, and giving his body the chance to heal.

 

He just…had to wait. His team would find him eventually.

 

Yeah…yeah, no problem.

 

No problem.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Keith’s welcome back to consciousness was met by the high, screaming_ whirrrrr! _of an overheating machine. The sound that felt like it was drilling at something small and important in the very depths of his ears. And while he was still feeling a bit muzzy, the fact that it seemed to be getting louder couldn’t be a good thing._

_His own heavy, shaky breathing sounded too loud in his own ears as he unsteadily pushing himself up on shaking arms, shuffling his legs to get up from where he had been thrown while mentally grasping for comprehension. Scrambling to simultaneously control his limbs and to account for his surroundings, Keith noted that the sound of fighting was distant and muffled while his vision swayed and doubled and swam._

_That didn’t bode well…_

_Quiznack, what did he get hit with?_

_“LANCE, GET OUT OF THERE!” Shiro’s roar pierced the haze. “IT’S GOING TO BLOW!”_

_Keith head snapped up._

Haggar.

****

_Oh_ quiznack, **_Lance_** _!_

_They had been working together to draw Haggar away from Shiro. Weaving back and forth and managing to keep Haggar contained and away from the others. Then Keith had gotten hit by the Witch’s attack and…_

_That left Lance by himself._

_And while Lance had gotten_ better _since he started training, close combat was still nowhere_ near _the guy’s forte._

_Keith’s sudden jerk of surprise immediately had him squinting his eyes as the shaky edges of his vision blackened and his arms gave way.  Landing painfully on his forearms and elbows with a gasp, he grabbed onto consciousness through the rolling waves of pain and—with gritted, bloody teeth—_ pushed _himself onto his feet with a choked down scream. The former Paladin was on his feet before the torrent of pain had even fully dissipated. He was sprinting back to the middle of the room by the time the residue dizziness set in._

_It didn’t matter._

_One of his team was in trouble._

_One of those precious, precious people was in danger._

_He immediately made towards where Lance and Haggar were engaged.  Twisting, rolling, and ducking around conflicts, he dodged another droid, his blade flashing out to slip in between the metal plates and slitting vital wires. Keith’s charge was interrupted as he was_ almost _thrown heads over ass by a buffering torrent of wind and lighting. Black edged in purple from the Empire’s rogue witch. Red-black cackles from the machine._

_Snarling in frustration, he threw his arms in front of him to shield his face and pushed forwards. Nearby, he saw Shiro doing the same and Hunk determinedly plodding for the platform from the other side of the room with the most success. All of them were suddenly able to get much closer when Lance suddenly_ surfed _across the platform on his shield to avoid the lightning and_ struck a hit _. Keith could actually_ see _the blood flying and it was satisfying as all hell._

_The idiot then crashing into Haggar like so much potatoes._

_Oh for god’s sake!_ LANCE!

_But the guy was actually doing pretty well tussling with the Witch. It was rough and clumsy and reminded Keith of a drunken bar brawl, but it was_ effective _in distracting her._

_Suddenly, a metal arm wrapped around his waist and yanked him back practically off his feet. It knocked the breath out of him and, in that stunned moment, he was forcibly dragged away. His head whipping around, and he saw what he already knew. Shiro had turned from where he had been struggling to reach the platform as well and was now dragging Keith back away with him._

_“It’s going to blow, Keith!” the bigger man yelled, something already grieving and pained in his tone._

_It only made Keith struggle harder, trying to throw himself over Shiro’s arm and practically crawling out of his grip._

_NO!” he thrashed even as Shiro bodily heaved him away from the platform and the cackling machine, the mechanical whining increasing in pitch ominously. Both of them frantically struggling to go the opposite direction. “No, Shiro! LANCE—!”_

_Because he was watching, Keith saw the exact moment comprehension dawned on Lance’s face. In a burst of strength, Keith managed to loosen Shiro’s hold just enough to slip out. Lunging forward, he gritted his teeth and ran full-tilt towards the center of the room. From the corner of his eye, he saw a glowing, green line also shooting towards Lance. Pidge, no doubt._

_None of them were fast enough._

_The ball of energy exploded._

_It was light, at first. The ball suddenly expanding and filling the room, blinding everyone. Then came the force, heat, and_ pain _for a brief moment before everything became numb._

_The noise was the last to happen. The sound of the explosion was utterly deafening._

_When he came back to consciousness for a second time in so many dobashes, nearly everything was white noise. Keith was too aware of how his body throbbed like one giant bruise. He felt too sensitive, every nerve aware of the hard wall at his back, the equally unforgiving floor, and the pressing weight of another body weighing him down._

_“Shiro?” Keith croaked, his voice muffled and distant in his own ears through white noise. He suddenly became aware of just how limp the other body over his was. “Quiznak, **Shiro?!** ”_

_Shiro had covered him in the explosion, and it showed. When Keith shifted out from underneath the other man, he saw that the Black Paladin armor over his back was rent, blackened, and cracked. A few pieces were gone altogether and charred edges framed burnt skin. Even as Keith gingerly touched, pieces of armor and cloth came away like ash. Fortunately, the bigger man stirred before long. Blindly grabbing for Keith’s shoulder, he used the younger man to shakily pull himself up._

_“I’m okay,” Shiro wheezed in the face of Keith’s concern, the younger reading it on his lips. “I’m okay. Everyone?”_

_As Keith pushed himself, he saw others stirring as well. Still others didn’t stir at all._

_Immediately, Keith felt something in his stomach drop as his eyes were reluctantly drawn to the epicenter of the blast. The black blast pattern was distinctively clear against the metal, so powerful that the raised platform was shattered and the surrounding metal floor was scorched and warped from the heat._

_There was nothing. Both Haggar and Lance were gone. No bodies. No scraps. Not even a fragment._

_The realization was there, the reality of it. But even that felt distant and far away at the moment. Shocked to numbness, all Keith could do was stare wide-eyed at the spot where he’d last seen Lance fighting Haggar. At the sign of movement, his eyes immediately shot to the Yellow Paladin shuffling towards the blast site. Stunned and zombie-like._

_“No…,” Keith read the breathless, horrified denial on Hunk’s lips. The big teenager looked so small among the destruction and pain and fallen bodies. He could see the other visibly choking up, his expression blank but eyes on the edge of tears._

_And even though Keith couldn’t hear his voice, Hunk’s call still rang like a knell to him._

_“Lance…”_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also working on a Lance character blog specifically for this fic. There, readers can see Lance's logs and transmissions for help. That will be coming up soon!


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